


may your days be merry

by pistolgrip



Series: 12+1 days of siesixmas [8]
Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:28:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21929713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pistolgrip/pseuds/pistolgrip
Summary: There is no time as effective as Christmas in reminding Six how isolated he is from everyone around him. There is also no time as effective as Christmas in reminding Six how Siete always has something in store for him.
Relationships: Siete | Seofon/Six | Seox (Granblue Fantasy)
Series: 12+1 days of siesixmas [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1570165
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	may your days be merry

Six sees when December arrives in everyone's steps, in their sparkling eyes and their excited words. Every day that he wakes up in the month, he finds something new—twinkling decorations, an enormous pine tree in their common room, festive music drifting through the halls.

Most of that music comes from old records, but Nio entertains their Christmas song requests with less annoyance than he'd imagine. _The season fills everyone's hearts with cheer_ , she tells him when he asks why she tolerates their requests at this time of year. _I don't mind if they ask every day._ _Playing these kinds of songs_ _aligns everyone's melodies more effectively than during any other time of the year._

Even rote missions turn festive. During a standard monster eradication mission, Six notices that in addition to the monsters' increased numbers, they wear Santa hats and fake antlers. A quick investigation uncovers Fif's master plan to befriend each monster she finds in the forest around the base to create a sleigh that could "rival even Santa's".

 _He's_ gotta _meet up with me if I bring my own sleigh!_ Fif exclaims when they stop her from chasing yet another Bloodhunter with a pair of antlers, complete with a worrying amount of explosive sound effects during her demonstration.

Everyone's in the holiday mood except for Six, for whom Christmas never held importance. He's neutral at best and repulsed at worst, reminded of the isolation he faced and deserved while everyone around him celebrates. So he leaves his room barren, refuses to partake in the festivities Siete plans for them, and stays in his room while everyone frolics in the snow or buys each other presents. If Christmas has never come to him, then he won't come to Christmas.

* * *

That may be his intention, but the Eternals make nothing easy on a normal day, let alone a holiday. Worst is their leader, who notices that Six has been avoiding celebrations and attempts to bring the celebrations to him instead of leaving him alone.

Siete hangs stockings on everyone's door with their names and numbers sewn onto them. Six watches it grow more full every day, but he can only ignore it for so long before Siete has something to say about it.

As they're returning from a mission, Siete nudges him and says, _You haven't been checking your stocking lately, have you?_

_Have you been posting my missions in there?_

_No,_ Siete says, and his smile never wavers. _But I've been leaving other fun stuff in there every day._

Siete watches him unlock his door, turn the knob, and take one step into his room. If only to get Siete to stop beaming at him, he takes the stocking off his door and brings it with him, shooting him a glare.

He looks inside the stocking to find chocolates, individually wrapped and with the day of the month written on a label. His stomach grumbles. He intended on sleeping after their mission, but the scent of the chocolates drifts up towards him.

He'll do something about them tomorrow. There's nowhere in his room to store them, and with how warm the base is to combat the winter chill, the chocolates would melt in his room. He leaves the stocking on his desk, but the memory of the taste follows him as he gets ready for bed; before he turns his lamp off to attempt to sleep, he takes one chocolate and unwraps it, placing it in his mouth with care.

The chocolate is bitter, but not overwhelming. It dissolves, smooth and lingering, and he pauses after he takes a drink of water.

The next chocolate he tries is similar, but with enough variation that he gets curious enough to eat four of them before he can stop himself and go to bed.

Siete hasn't filled the space on his door when Six wakes up the next morning, and he tries to find solace in believing that Siete's gotten the message. He tries to put the chocolates out of his mind for at least the duration of breakfast. But when Fif asks him where his stocking went, right in front of Siete, he mumbles a half-truth for a response and then hangs it back up ten minutes later when he returns to his room.

(It's when he's returned to the kitchen after hanging his stocking that he finds Siete, yawning, poorly stacked bowls filled with chocolate surrounding him. He thinks about telling Siete the ones he tried the night before were acceptable, but Siete turns around to grin at him, and he thinks better of it.)

* * *

That is when he realizes that Siete's planning something.

Siete is _always_ planning something, but Six can sense that he's being targeted. Siete is well-practiced in keeping appearances, but Six notices his tells—at times, he's too evasive, and at others, he overcompensates in both words and actions. He's trying to distract Six from whatever he has planned.

Whenever they're in the same space together, Siete's eyes will wander over to watch Six, even if he's not involved with the conversation. The hairs on the back of his neck raise, and under the weight of Siete's gaze, he becomes self-conscious enough to force him to his feet and flee the room.

He tries to reason, while he escapes from yet another situation in which Siete gives him silent attention, that this is just what the holiday season does to Siete. It makes him hate the cheer more.

* * *

Hating the season should facilitate its avoidance. But there's a desperate part within him that he wishes he never gave a name, born from the same shadows he was and sewn into the fabric of his soul. It whispers in his ear every time he catches Siete staring at him, building to a roar every time he escapes without being chased after: the yearning for something left behind, narrowing down to the reminder that he is, and always will be, _lonely_.

The light that shone upon him was both a blessing and a curse, giving him a reason to live again while dooming him to search to the ends of the skies for the one thing that could bring him happiness. As much as he tries to embrace the solitude that is his birthright by abandoning his futile pursuit, that childish desire still rattles inside, trapped within his rib cage.

It's easier to ignore that feeling during the rest of the year, but during Christmas, there is no commotion loud enough to drown out the wailing inside his mind. With the unrelenting nature of the celebrations, he's grown weary.

Two days before Christmas, the only people remaining at the base are him, Sarasa, and Siete. He takes the risk in leaving his room, if only because the undecorated walls of his room and winter chill through the cracks of his windows grow unbearable. He wanders around the base until his feet lead them into their kitchen, bringing him face to face with the other two.

Six tries to sneak out, but Siete is one of the three Eternals that have a sixth sense for when—in their own words—a "potential friend" is trying to evade their friendship. The other two are Fif and Song, but today, Siete's partner in crime is _Sarasa_ , who's willing to play along.

Their persistence ropes him in, destroying his chances for a quiet afternoon and they inundate him with their plans: baking cookies for the Eternals, before decorating every surface left untouched in the base. Every time Six tries to leave, they keep him captive by asking him to hold something, to watch over progress, or by talking at him until he surrenders from his attempt.

Six doesn't get to breathe until they put the dough in the oven. He takes off his apron and tells them he's leaving. They let him go, but not before encouraging him to come back and decorate the cookies with icing once their timer rings.

He sees the discerning look in Siete's eyes before he closes them with his grin, and he decides in that moment that he won't return. But he smells the cookies baking throughout the entire base, lingering long after they're done, and he sneaks one for himself later that night when he thinks no one is around to witness him.

* * *

The first time he distinguished between _alone_ and _lonely_ was among the Eternals. Here, he was never alone, but he was still lonely. The others would try to keep him involved, as if he were the missing piece to a harmonious crew, but he kept his distance.

He bites into the gingerbread cookie and crumbs fall into his lap.

They weren't the light he sought. They could never be. They were too faint, like the Christmas lights in the hallway that Siete insisted on stringing up everywhere, and they were just as temporary. But they were bright _enough_ for Six's survival to the next day.

* * *

One day before Christmas, Six exits his room to find a nondescript package by his door.

He scans the hallway, but finds nothing. His nose and ears can't determine whether someone's been here in the past few hours, but he's been in his room all day and hasn't heard anyone near his door.

The envelope on top of the package is addressed to him, and when he turns it over, he finds no indication of the gift-giver—not that it would be difficult to discern. Siete has been giving him _looks_ for the better part of a month, and there are only two people left in the base. He doesn't want to leave the package there, but he doesn't want to open it in the hallway, so his only choice is to take it into the privacy of his room.

Siete enjoys planning big celebrations for them, but for previous Christmases, he used gaudier wrapping paper for Six's present and left it in a pile with the rest of the Eternals' under the tree. This is the first Christmas where Siete delivered it to his door, and he's done so early.

His Christmas presents in the past have been souvenirs from missions, useful tools, or one-use items that wouldn't be a burden on their constant travels. Then, for whoever's at the base during Christmas day, Siete will cook a feast—and then, because the Eternals' schedules never align, he does it every night until he gives all ten of them home cooking for the holidays.

He can already hear Siete starting on dinner downstairs. When Six goes to eat, Siete will ask him about the present. That's the reasoning he settles on as he sits at his desk, nudging his bonsai and its clippers away.

He reads the letter before he opens the package, and the first three words bring a frown to his face.

_Happy Birthday, Six!_

A thousand protests rise to his lips, but his eyes catch the next words.

 _I know it's not your actual birthday, and I know you'll never tell me, no matter how much I bug you_ _for it. So I_ _decided that today's your birthday! Save the whole "I've never realized people celebrate the day they were born because I've never had a reason to celebrate my own birth" spiel,_

In a stroke of irrationality, Six lifts his eyes from the letter to check whether anyone's in his room watching him. His mouth thins into a tight line. He wants to stop reading the letter and burn it instead.

_but give me a moment here, will ya?_

_It's close enough to a large holiday that you can lump them together_ _if you decide you don't like the attention (which_ _obviously you won't), but it's still a separate day where_ _you can have your own celebration._ _Before you complain_ — _and I'm sure you will, you'll come storm downstairs right after this and give me a piece of your mind_ — _I_ _do_ _want you to have a day to yourself, Six. Whatever you think, there's no one I'd rather have in the Eternals to replace you, as a member and as a friend._

_Use this present how you want, even if it's as toilet paper. I'm not picky!_

_Siete_

Siete says many things, most of which are vapid, intentionally irritating, or misdirections, but it's rare that he'll write them so that Six can commit them to memory. He's not pleased about Siete trying to dedicate a day to celebrating his birth; that carries acknowledgment of the horror he was born as, the massacre he committed, and then the willing crime of dismissing it. He hears each word in Siete's voice, insisting that he's made enough progress since he first joined the Eternals to warrant a celebration.

He wants to throw the letter away.

With the package, he heads downstairs to find Siete in the kitchen, navigating through the Christmas decorations that now litter their base. Siete has a record in the other room playing loud enough for him to sing along to as he finishes three plates, and Six clears his throat.

The way his face brightens when he sees Six is the natural culmination of Siete's scheming all month. It makes something fall into place among his thoughts.

"Hey, Six."

Six takes a moment to absorb the eagerness in his voice, pure without the mischief. He swallows before holding out the package. "I cannot accept this."

Siete raises his eyebrows, but he doesn't look offended. "Open it after dinner?" he suggests, glancing back at the stove.

He expected a dramatic retelling of the pains through which Siete obtained his present only for him to reject it, and that it was a blight against the otherwise perfect holiday season. Instead, he gets a Siete that chooses to focus on him instead of the food, curiously absent of the desire to goad him into retaliating.

No matter how he tries to remind himself that he should never impose his existence on the others, they always come back to him.

Before he answers, Sarasa bursts in through the back door, shaking snow off her coat and shivering. "I smell food!" she shouts, and then she walks further into the kitchen. "Whatcha got, Six?"

He frowns, bringing the package closer to him. Siete's eyes are on him again with every action, but this time, he meets him halfway. "A birthday present."

"What?" Sarasa brightens, trying to grab it from his hands. "I didn't know it was your birthday!"

"Neither did I."

If she hears him mutter, she doesn't acknowledge it. "We made it another year, and we're still kickin'! Happy birthday, Six!"

She goes to check the oven and starts chattering about celebratory sweets, and all the while, Siete keeps his attention on him, and Six thinks he could give in to the persistent company for the first time.

* * *

Dinner with three people should have been a quiet affair, but when the other two people he's having Christmas Eve dinner with are Sarasa and Siete, that hope disappears. Their conversation is lively, yelling over each other and trying to get Six to join in with them. They make more mess than should be possible, but it's accompanied by laughter and amusement, even if Six feels like a mere observer rather than a participant.

He offers to help Siete with the dishes, but he waves a hand. "Nah, let me handle it." _Go open your present, already,_ he says.

In the safety of his room, he turns on his lamp and sets the package on the desk. His room is barren of Christmas decorations, but other parts of his life encroach on his space, trinkets that litter his room because he doesn't know where else to keep them—most of them from Siete, but other Eternals will sometimes leave him things.

With only past gifts watching him, no Christmas lights or festive songs to accompany him in the bleakness of his room, he opens Siete's package.

The nondescript wrapping falls away to reveal a simple, leather-bound journal. Beside it is a fountain pen, nicer than the one Six has used and abused for the few communications he has.

Six glances at the letter again.

_Use this present how you want, even if it's as toilet paper. I'm not picky!_

He could use it as fodder for their fireplace tonight, feeding it Siete's wild ideas until they burn into ash. First, Siete insists that he deserves a day to celebrate his birth, and then he believes that there's anything in his life that he'd want to record, things that trauma hasn't already etched into his mind.

Was this why Siete spent a month making him uncomfortable? To prepare a well-intentioned but ultimately useless gesture?

He wants to throw it away, but despite the endless irritation that Siete brings him, this gesture is born out of true faith in Six, a faith that's never seemed to waver through their years of being Eternals. More than trying to bring Christmas to him, Siete tried to bring him a reason to celebrate every day that he wakes up.

The request is absurd, but not as impossible as he first thought. He could entertain the idea. Just this once.

He takes a deep breath and stares at the journal for a long time, feeling the leather in his gloved hands. Then, he opens the cover, takes the ink from the corner of his desk, and writes the date on the first page.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from _White Christmas_.  
> I do normally headcanon Six’s birthday either as Christmas Eve or as Winter Solstice of every year (instead of a specific date), which I think I put somewhere in uh… wolf's wedding?


End file.
